


Day Twenty Two: Desk Sex

by Invictusimpala



Series: 30 Day NSFW Challenge [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Bondage, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Dean, Gags, M/M, Office Sex, Ruined Orgasms, Semi-Public Sex, Sub Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wesson,” Dean growls into the phone, and he can hear the click of Sam swallowing despite the crappy speaker quality of the office phone. “Get to my office now, or you’re in for some punishment later.”<br/>“Yes, sir.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Twenty Two: Desk Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

“Wesson,” Dean growls into the phone, and he can hear the click of Sam swallowing despite the crappy speaker quality of the office phone. “Get to my office now, or you’re in for some punishment later.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam whispers, and then the call ends. Dean sits back in his chair, strokes his cock leisurely.

There are still tons of people in the building working through the day as it’s only three in the afternoon. This is all just part of some fantasy Sam has about public sex. Dean agreed to not having sex in public, but the office would do.

It’s not really a kink of his own, but Sam got so hard just thinking about it, and Dean’s fine with it, that they’re going through with it.

There’s a knock on the door, and Dean tucks his hard cock into the waistband of his pants for only just a moment, long enough to open the door for Sam, and long enough to lock it again.

“Dean --”

“Did I say you could talk?” Dean asks, and Sam flushes a shade darker, cock twitching in his pants obviously. Sam shakes his head, lowers his gaze. There’s a smile on his face that he’s hiding, Dean notices, and he’s glad he’s not overstepping this whole thing. “Strip,” Dean commands, and Sam follows the direction.

Sam unbuttons his shirt slowly, giving Dean a show he’d appreciate anywhere else, but their time is limited. Dean doesn’t know when or if someone is going to come knocking, and he’d rather not take longer than they have to with simple things such as this.

“Faster,” he bites out, and Sam pulls his pants and boxers off in one go, his cock jumping up to hit his stomach. He toes off his shoes, kicks off his pants and underwear, and shucks the shirt and tie.

Dean follows suit, taking all of his clothes off.

“Lean over the desk with your legs spread.” Sam does as he’s told, holding onto the edge for support as the wood bites into his abdomen.

He wiggles his hips, shooting Dean a happy look, but when Dean swats him on the ass, he sobers up a little.

Dean takes both of their ties and binds Sam’s hands to the desk legs. Sam whines, and Dean pretends not to hear it. Dean moves around the desk to grab the bottle of lube from the drawer, and Sam’s fingers stretch to touch him, but he can’t.

Dean winds his fingers with Sam’s, and he lets out a breath, tense muscles relaxing.

“You’re doing so well, Sam, come on. Spread your legs a little further.” Sam does, and Dean slicks his fingers up. One nudges at Sam’s hole, and he whimpers. “No noise or I stop and let you go back to your office.”

Sam clamps his mouth resolutely shut. Dean pets down his back as praise. Dean takes his one finger out and re-lubes two. After two, three, and after three, four. By that time Sam's whining comes quicker, and he’s riding Dean’s hand. If Dean told him he could speak, he’d probably be begging by now.

“You can talk, Sam, how do you feel?” Dean asks quietly.

“Please, sir, please. I need your cock.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes, sir, please. _Please_ ,” Sam pleads, and Dean stands up. His cock-head presses at Sam’s hole, but pushes no further. “Please, sir, need you, need your cock.” Sam whines, and Dean obliges him.

He goes slow. Dean knows Sam needs it like this, not too rough at first. Dean bottoms out with a groan, and Sam moans loudly. Dean moves an arm around him to clamp a hand over his mouth, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“No noise, remember? I thought you wanted my cock, Sam? Then you need to be quiet or I’m leaving you to sort yourself out.”

Sam nods, and Dean lets his hand fall from his face. He breathes in deep, and then nods again. Dean starts to move, pulling out, snapping his hips forward. Sam’s moans are choked off, half heard, bitten off.

“You’re taking my cock so well, Sam, look at you.” Dean’s fingers trace the skin stretched around his dick, and Sam keens, jolts forward, trying to get some friction on his cock.

“Pl --”

“No talking.” Dean thrusts harder, and Sam moans again. Dean pulls out, and Sam scrambles to get Dean back inside of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam cries.

“I’ll give you one more chance.” Dean says. He walks around to the front of the desk, pulls the ties undone. He reties Sam’s hands to one of the desk legs, and then fastens the other tie as a gag in Sam’s mouth and around his head.

Sam groans, drops his forehead to the desk, canting his hips.

Dean goes back around him, grabs his cock, and pushes right back in. This time he gives Sam no time to recover, just starts up the chase for his orgasm once more.

“You love having people listen to you getting off on my thick cock, Sam?” Dean snarls in his ear, and Sam moans. It’s muffled by the gag that’s soaked through with spit. “Anyone could walk in and see you taking it like an animal in heat. You couldn’t wait to get home, could you? You just had to bend right over for me, had to have my cock.” Dean punctuates his speech with harder, shorter thrusts that make Sam cry out.

Sam makes a sound that could be a ‘please’, but Dean’s not sure.

“Do you need more? Need a hand on your cock? Too bad.” Dean whispers, and Sam groans. “You’re going to come on my cock and nothing else, Sam, nothing else. Come on, baby, come for me.” Sam shakes his head. “You can’t? Come on my cock or not at all, Sam, it’s that simple, baby boy.”

Sam makes a pitiful noise, one that makes Dean think he’s in pain, and he stops moving his hips.

“Do you need to safe-word out?” Dean asks, but Sam shakes his head. “Can you be quiet? Do you want me to take off the gag?” Sam nods his head wildly. Dean unties it, and he pants out harsh breaths. “What do you need?” Dean asks quietly, soothing Sam’s contracting muscles with the palms of his hands.

“I need to come, please,” Sam sobs, and Dean sighs.

“I told you that you could come on my cock or not at all. I’m not going to do anything but that unless you safe-word.”

Dean can see Sam’s train of thought. He doesn’t need to safe-word, but Dean knows Sam wants to come so badly that he’d do it anyway.

“Sam,” Dean warns, and Sam slumps.

“Please,” he whines.

“Do you want to go again?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam mumbles into the wood of the desk.

Dean feeds himself back into Sam inch by inch, and Sam writhes on his cock, trying to get Dean in deeper, _harder_. Dean makes it so his cock is hitting Sam’s prostate more often than not, and it seems to drive him even further towards that edge he needs to reach soon.

Dean’s about to come, and he tries to think of things to quell the heat churning in his belly, but it’s not helping.

“Sam, gonna come in you, fill you up, come on, Sam, come.” Dean commands, and that’s what throws him over that cliff.

Sam’s come paints the desk white, stark against the dark of the wood. Sam comes and comes, shakes and moans, shuddering as he slumps against Dean’s desk.

Dean comes, but it’s quicker than Sam’s orgasm. This isn’t about him, anyway, it’s about making Sam feel good.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Sam chants, and Dean unties him, rubs feeling back into his fingers, kisses the tips of each.

He presses a sloppy kiss to Sam’s palms, then on his lips, sucking on Sam’s tongue. Sam’s still breathing hard, so Dean gives him time for his body to catch up with the rest of him.

“Do you need more?” Dean asks, and Sam nods, looking up at him through tear blurred eyes. Dean wipes them off of his cheeks, kisses the salt away with his tongue.

Sam sighs happily, lays back down.

“Turn over,” Dean says, and Sam does, spread eagle on Dean’s desk. It sure is a sight to behold.

His cock is still hard, curved up towards his belly, and Dean takes it in hand, the one that’s covered in lube. Sam cries out, and Dean punishes him by removing himself.

Dean lets Sam catch his breath, and then he’s back on him, jerking him off. Sam’s about to come; Dean can feel his balls draw up, can see the way Sam’s tensing, the rush of blood underneath Dean’s hand.

Dean lets go just as Sam comes.

“Dean!” He yells, come dripping sluggishly from his slit. It covers his lap by the time he’s finished, and Dean’s dressed by that time as well.

Someone knocks on the door.

“Mr. Smith? Is everything alright in there?”

“I am fine, Cindy, just spilled some coffee on Mr. Wesson in here. Could you go get me a clean shirt from the back room where I keep them?” He asks.

“Sure thing,” she calls through the door, and Dean finishes dressing himself. Sam’s heaving deep breaths, glaring at Dean. “What?”

“You fucker,” Sam pants, and Dean laughs.

“That’s for coming on my paperwork. You can do it to me later.”

“Really?” Sam asks, eyes wide.

“Sure, after you ride me. But, right now, you’re going to go back to your office and pretend you don’t have come dripping from your hole.” Sam shivers, nodding. “Good boy.”

Sam stands up, knees buckling, and Dean holds him up while he gets himself dressed. Immediately there’s a wet stain on the back, and when Cindy comes back with a clean shirt, she doesn’t ask.

Sam walks out of his office smelling and looking like sex, leaving with a final kiss on the lips and a small wave.

The second Dean closes the door he’s dialing Sam’s office phone.

“How was that?” Dean asks nervously when Sam picks up.

“Fuck, really good.”

“Was it? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Dean, that was perfect.”

“I’m glad. Do you need anything? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I feel good, not heavy or upset or anything.”

“Good. You did really well, Sam, I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah, Sam. What do you want for dinner?”

“You.” Dean laughs.

“You already have me.”

“Good, because I’m taking you up on the promise you made me about ruining your orgasm.”

Dean tenses. He’s glad the door is closed.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice husky, still deeper than normal from fucking Sam not ten minutes ago.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Well get to work so the day will go by quicker.”

“Fine, Wesson. I’ll see you at home. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Dean’s cock twitches every time he thinks about going home to Sam, and he works through the entire stack of paperwork, however stained it is. Dean lied when he said he didn’t get off on semi-public sex. He’s hoping for a repeat.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://invictus-impala.tumblr.com/post/99871679299/about-prompts-im-now-taking-prompts-yay-if-you))


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